Page 26 of A Sinful Viscount's Mistletoe Affair
Felicity smiled sweetly. “I could ask you the same thing, my dear cousin. It is very cold outside, and you look as if you have been rolling around in the snow!”
Isabella’s cheeks reddened, and Felicity felt a surge of triumph. At least she had the decency to show some shame at her outrageous behaviour.
“I tripped and fell in the snow,” Isabella said, first looking at the ground, then brushing a few stray snowflakes off her cloak. She then faced Felicity and held her gaze rather boldly. “Were you just about to go out for a walk, too? It is very beautiful outside in the early morning light.”
Felicity nodded and smiled again. “I am sure that you have been enjoying it very much.”
A tiny frown crossed Isabella’s face before her slightly false smile returned. “I had a very pleasant walk, but I must confess I am a little chilled now. I must return to my room. Perhaps I shall see you at breakfast.”
“That would be most pleasant,” Felicity said and watched her cousin walking away down the corridor.
She glanced at the door to the garden. She would have to go outside now, whether she wanted to or not since she had told Isabella that was what she would do. She thought that perhaps she might bump into Sebastian, although he seemed to have vanished into thin air.
Her thoughts returned to Isabella and her pretty face, cheeks made even rosier by the cold winter air. She had everything anyone could possibly need or want, and she was on the verge of becoming engaged to a duke, and still, it seemed that she wanted more. She wanted Sebastian. Well, Felicity did, too, and she was not about to lose out to her cousin. No, indeed.
She did not have a plan fully formed in her mind quite yet, but she was determined. There was no way she would let Isabella steal the viscount from under her nose. She just had to work out how to approach the situation so that she was the victor for once in her life.
Chapter 12
The day passed quickly, and rather uneventfully for Isabella, in comparison to the events of the ball the previous evening and her early morning encounter with Sebastian.
Breakfast was followed by a walk around the grounds for those brave enough to face the cold. Isabella chose to stay indoors under the pretence of helping her mother to prepare for the evening’s entertainment, but in reality, trying as hard as she could to avoid all responsibility.
She sat in the front parlour gazing out the window, her thoughts entirely dominated by Sebastian. It was as if he had taken up residence in the front of her brain, and she could not process any thoughts that did not directly concern him.
She was so distracted that she initially did not hear her mother calling her from the hallway.
“Isabella!” came her mother’s increasingly loud and slightly shrill voice, finally breaking through her consciousness.
“Coming, Mother,” she called back and reluctantly got to her feet.
“I need your help with the games this evening,” Lady Eleanor said, ushering her into the drawing room. “I was thinking that we should save cards for another evening and play something more festive tonight, like charades. What do you think?”
Isabella stifled a groan. Charades was not a game she had ever particularly enjoyed; she often felt rather as if she was making a fool of herself in front of people, and she had never quite understood why that was meant to be an enjoyable way of passing an evening. “Do you not think cards would be a more gentle start to the party?” she suggested a little hesitantly.
“No indeed!” Lady Eleanor insisted. “We began the festive season with a ball, for goodness’ sake! I want everyone to continue having fun and remember our festive gathering as one of the best times they have ever had.”
Isabella sighed. It seemed that her mother was fixed on the plan for the evening, and there was nothing she could do about it.
“And what would you like me to do to help, Mother?” she asked as graciously as she could.
“Well, the first thing you can do is try and look a little more cheerful about the whole thing,” Lady Eleanor said, looking at her daughter sharply. “I will pair you with Henry of course, for the first round.”
“Henry?” Isabella looked at her mother in confusion.
“Why yes, the Duke of Harbridge, of course.”
Isabella felt her heart sinking in her chest. Her parents were on first-name terms with the duke now? This could not be a good sign.
“You must think of some romantic tales that you could act out to get things moving in the right direction,” Lady Eleanor insisted.
“Mother, I do not want to do that!” Isabella protested.
“But you must show a little willing,” Lady Eleanor replied. “You do not want the duke to think you are not interested in him, do you?”
Isabella shrugged. The fact that she was not at all interested in him was perhaps not something she could share with her mother yet. It seemed that she really did have her heart set on her younger daughter becoming a duchess, and Isabella could not bear to disabuse her of that notion just yet.
“I must confess that I thought he would have danced with you more than once last night,” Lady Eleanor went on.
